Ernest Hemingway and Chapter 8 of Camille

I am reading Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. It is a perfect segway after reading The Paris Wife which is the same story told from the perspective of his wife Hadley Richardson. I was a little bit emotional at the beginning. I felt very sad for how he and Hadley's marriage had ended after the arrival of Pauline. But, as I got into the book, I'm already up to page 116, I am a lot more forgiving of him. Life is messy, I guess. Relationships end sometimes. It doesn't make him a bad person. It's just life.

But so now I am working on Camille a little bit today. In fact, I think the book is pretty much done but I am going back in and filling in some gaps, and polishing some stuff. I sent out a bunch of query letters to some agents to see if anybody would represent me to get it published and I already have two rejection letters in my coffers. Giggle, giggle. Rejection is my middle Name. Just call me "Marion TD Rejection Lewis." But I don't care. I am still writing and I know I will find an agent one day and it will be published. So, it's their loss for not knowing genius when they see it. Voilà.  So below, I give you Chapter 8 which introduces the character named Gabe. What do you think?:

Chapter 8

About a week later, Camille met Gabe at the Franprix across the street. He was a tall, slim guy with curly black hair and a hard, muscled body. A bit of a pretty boy if you really must know, and she was not the type of girl who usually went for the pretty boy type.

He had come to reach a box of cereal after she had knocked over a few others in trying to reach the one she had wanted. Gabe was immediately attracted to Camille. He began to chat her up and when he discovered she was American and from New York, he was intrigued and wanted to get to know her better. He invited her to coffee that evening, after his shift, but she had refused saying that she had other plans. She offered to meet up with him another time.

 In the end, she met him for coffee at a little café on Boulevard Brune days after they first met at the Franprix. He had texted her after his shift, around 8:00 p.m. to invite her out again after she turned him down the first time. Turns out that Gabe was quite an entertaining guy and made her laugh constantly. He asked all the usual questions: what was she doing in Paris? Which school was she studying at? Where did she live? Did she live alone? Somehow the conversation turned to her roommate and it turned out that Gabe knew Olga pretty well. She often bought alcohol at the Franprix and he had on occasion seen her intoxicated. He told Camille this story as if it was funny about the time Olga walked into the Franprix dressed only in her culottes and a tee-shirt, trying to buy a carton of beer. It seemed she was well known in the neighborhood for her excess drinking. Although when she cleaned up, she was quite a fine dame.

Camille did not feel a love connection or even a physical attraction to Gabe. She thought he was a very cute fella with a nice body but he was very young and boyish and she did not think that that was what she needed in a love interest. She wanted an older man who was already established and with whom she could settle down and have a family. This guy seemed barely out of his adolescence with a lot more wild oats to sow and this was not what Camille was after. But he seemed like he could be a good friend. He lived in Montmartre, a world away from the 14^th, and was trying to save up enough money to move to Reunion with a bunch of his friends and open a fast food restaurant. The Franprix where he worked was owned by a distant relative and he was a manager of sorts there.

That night of their first encounter was an especially beautiful night. As the night fell, and the full moon appeared, Paris started to peacock right before Camille’s eyes. It seemed impossibly romantic all of a sudden and she could not contain her excitement. “I love this time of the day! She cried. “Paris looks like the City of Lights of centuries ago!”

 “Yea, Paris at night, nothing like it, c’est vrai!” replied Gabe. “You haven’t lived till you’ve seen Paris at night. Uncroyable!”

The both giggled.

Gabe asked if she would be interested in going to the Eiffel Tower for an evening picnic. She had nothing better to do and said yes. He had a red Vespar and offered to take her for a ride to the tower on it. Camille would normally not go on a  motorcycle but it seemed to be the transportation of choice for Parisians first of all and second of all, she didn’t want to seem old and boring by saying she was afraid of riding on a Vespar. They walked back to the Franprix and while Camille waited outside, Gabe used his key to go inside, returning minutes later with a sac of groceries. His Vespar was parked right outside and they jumped on it, put on their helmets and were off on their first adventure. They sped along the Periphérique to Quai d'Issy-les-Moulineaux and headed East on Boulevard des Maréchaux. Several turns and traffic lights later, they were Avenue Maurice d’Ocagne, and then Pont Garigliano. Camille clung tighter and tighter onto Gabe. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying to be going so fast, with everything whizzing by at the speed of light and she did not want to fall off and get herself killed. They were now at Quai D’issy-les-Moulineaux. Gabe was asking her if she was “alright back there,” and she said yes, but did not want to talk too much as she wanted to stay focused so that they would get there safely. Tunnel Citroen-Cévennes, Quai André Citroen, Quai de Grenelle. Camille registered each and every street, tunnel, quai, boulevard and rue while she clung on to Gabe for dear life. She had never been so petrified or excited in her life. When they finally pulled up to the Eiffel Tower, she thought maybe she had died and gone to heaven.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “That was amazing!”

“Never been on a Vespar before?”

“No, not really. Not like that. I mean, everything was whizzing so fast! It’s like a huge adrenaline rush! And now this! Oh my God! I think I have never seen it look so beautiful.”

“You mean the tower? You’ve have never seen it at night?” asked Gabe incredulously.

She shook her head. “No. Never. I have only come during the day. It is totally different at night.”

“Incredible, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Those are not even the words! It’s just….I’m speechless! OMG. Wow. I can’t believe how sheltered I’ve been and what I’ve been missing. Thank you for giving me this bit of pleasure, Gabe. I would not have wanted to die and not seen this sight!”

 Gabe parked the Vespar. He had brought crackers, cheese, wine, grapes, celery, paté and créme fraiche from the Franprix. They spread themselves on the grass directly underneath the Eiffel Tower talking and laughing and people-watching till nearly midnight, with the iconic monument, and the stars for a picture-perfect backdrop.